It's a Matter of Resolve
by I am The Lev
Summary: When everything came crashing down, they traveled to the Holy Land to protect the King. She supposed that someone would have to stay behind. Waves of recurring characters, character deaths, plot twists. Oh, yeah, pulling out all the stops, folks.
1. Sitting and Waiting

Alright, folks! This is basically the end of this "season" of the Morgan Stories, my response to the finale, and a healthy dose of angst and character death, not necessarily in that order.

In this first chapter, I did something that I don't like to do. I basically hijacked scenes from episode 12 and changed them by adding Morgan in. Please, bear with me. With any luck, I'll never have to do this again.

I hope you all enjoy it!

---

She sat and waited, looking out the window of the small cottage. She wanted desperately to hear some news from Nottingham. News that Robin Hood and his gang had all returned safely. News that the mercenaries had been driven out. News of Hollis. News of Morgan. She wanted to know that they were safe, but Elene Weaver had yet to hear from them. A part of her was scared to hear. She didn't know if her heart could take the loss of another child. Still, her worrying granted her no answers, so she sat and waited. Slowly, the door creaked open. Elene didn't see the messenger, only the lifeless body that tore at her soul.

---Six Months Earlier---

Morgan was running late. She knew that the gang would expect it; she'd never claimed to be a punctual person, but this was exceptional, even for her. Much would've already led them to the barn. They would have already given Robin his present. They would have already started the party.

"Better late than never," she sighed as she quickened her pace. Maybe she wasn't late at all. Maybe they'd been delayed on their way to Nettlestone. The barn came into view, and she sped up, eager to reach her destination. Later on, she would wonder how she missed the massive clump of mercenaries marching towards the barn. Presently, they drew her attention by firing several arrows at her. Morgan didn't have time to think; she merely reacted. The side of the barn was wrought with imperfections, gaps in the wood siding that made it relatively easy to climb. The fact that she was being shot at proved to be an effective motivation, and she was soon on top of the old barn.

"Happy Birthday, Robin Hood!" someone called. Much to her relief, the arrows had stopped flying at her, and Morgan was allowed the opportunity to peer over the side of the barn at the speaker. She recognized him as the leader of the mercenaries, but she was far too distracted by the circle on his forehead to remember his name. "Sheriff sends his best! Not to mention his best men!"

Morgan moved carefully along the roof of the barn, occasionally twisting to avoid an arrow. The mercenaries seemed to enjoy watching her squirm. That suited Morgan just fine, as long as it kept them from killing her on the spot. She could hear Much inside, already in a full-out panic. She got to the back end of the barn before she found what she was looking for. She drew her sword, using it to pry the loose plank away from the roof. She removed a few more planks, until there was a hole in the roof that she could squeeze through.

"Little John!" she called down, putting her sword away. Little John looked up at the sound of his name, his brow furrowing in confusion as he stared at Morgan. The rest of the outlaws were preoccupied by the pig's head that Djaq had just stuffed with black powder, throwing it out at the advancing mercenaries. The subsequent explosion nearly caused Morgan to fall off of the roof with surprise.

"What was that?" Morgan asked in a panic.

"Why are you on the roof?" Little John asked in return.

"Black powder! Get down before you break your neck! That's something that even I can't fix!" Djaq called up to Morgan. She slipped through the hole the roof, falling into John's outstretched arms.

"Sorry, I'm late," she announced sarcastically. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you're just in time to die with the rest of us," Much answered quickly.

"Much, we're not going to die," Robin said from the door, though the way he paced around the barn undermined the confidence of his tone. He didn't have a plan, half of a plan, or even a sort of a half of a plan. Still, he felt compelled to at least act as though he was thinking one up. He'd almost had something, involving getting a message to Morgan, but because she had just joined them in the barn, he was back at square one.

"I'll bet you ten to one that Poppy had something to do with this," Morgan offered, joining Robin at the door, peeking out at the mercenaries. Robin bit his lower lip. She was probably right. Most of the news that came in and out of Nettlestone passed through the crazy, old gossip hound.

"I need to think," he muttered, stepping back from the door, leaving Morgan to watch.

"There are five of us and a hundred of them," Djaq stated, the hopelessness evident in her voice.

"Once, a few determined Spartans held a pass against a vast Persian army," Robin replied sagely.

"Really?" Will asked. Morgan glanced over her shoulder. It was moments like this, when Will would dare to show hope in his eyes, that she remembered that he was only nineteen.

"Strategy," Robin nodded.

"And they lived?" At Will's inquiry, the rest of the gang turned to Robin. He hesitated momentarily.

"No, but… they did well," he said in defense of the anecdote.

"Oh," Will managed, trying not to sound too crushed. Much clapped him on the shoulder.

"I hate that story, too," he grumbled, walking to the steps leading to the loft, sitting on them. Morgan, who hadn't moved from the barn door, stared out at the mercenaries, a faraway look in her eyes. Djaq tapped her on the shoulder.

"I'll watch," she offered, discretely telling her friend to move away from the door. Djaq had become unsettled by the way Morgan had been staring. There was something in her eyes that spoke volumes, but Djaq found that she couldn't understand what was being said. Morgan took a deep breath before she nodded and moved to the back of the barn, leaning against one of the support beams.

---

They'd been in the barn for hours. It would soon be dark outside. The gang had dispersed throughout the barn, all of them visibly nervous. Djaq was standing in place, swinging her arms. Much was still sitting on the ladder, fidgeting with the various fraying ends of his clothes. Will was sitting on a bench, occasionally shooting glances at his friends, his arms crossed determinedly over his chest. Little John and Robin were pacing round the barn, seemingly unable to stop walking. Morgan was hanging upside down from the barn's rafters, doing sit ups to keep herself occupied.

They heard bagpipes start to play outside, and the fact that the mercenaries had dared to play music seemed to incense Much. He turned, glaring at the origin of the music, a half-crazed look in his eyes. The disheveled state of his hair under his cap didn't help.

"This is driving me mad!" He declared. "Why don't they just come in here and kill us?" He rested his head on his arm, almost pouting.

"There's no incentive, Much," Robin explained. "Every hour that goes by, we become more fearful, more tired, more likely to take foolish action." The calm explanation served as a catalyst, first moving Will to words.

"The foolish action was bringing us here in the first place," he muttered. Much turned to face him.

"I said I'm sorry," he said defensively, frowning at Will as the carpenter rolled his eyes.

"That's not good enough," Little John spoke up. Morgan stopped doing sit ups, allowing herself to simply hang and watch the conflict erupt.

"Oh, you've never made a mistake?" Much said more than asked. "I'm not saying anything!"

"What?" Little John asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not saying anything!" Much repeated, though he did the exact opposite as Little John crossed over to him. "You brought the Sheriff to our camp! You showed him where we live!"

"I was trying to feed the poor! That's what we used to do!" Little John barked back, pressing on in an uncharacteristically taunting tone. "What's this all about? Feeding your fat face?"

"Fat face?" Much repeated incredulously. Djaq and Will exchanged glances, choosing to stay out of the blossoming fight. Morgan pulled herself on top of the rafters, dropping deftly to the floor.

"Not being funny, but if we are going to die, I'd rather not have to listen to arguing for the last hours of me life," she muttered quietly. She was normally painfully optimistic, and Djaq was surprised to hear the defeatist statement from the blacksmith.

"Butt out, Morgan!" Much snapped. "What makes you so high and mighty?" Morgan's eyes flickered with something that could only be described as rage. Little John held his arm out, just in case Morgan got it in her head to launch herself at Much.

"I just didn't want you to argue? Is that too much to ask?" Morgan yelled, stepping forward. Little John strategically placed himself in between them.

"Leave Morgan alone, Much," he ordered.

"Why are you always siding with Morgan?" Much asked angrily, sparking up the fight again. Djaq led Morgan away, talking to her in a hushed whisper, leaving Much and Little John to their shouting match.

"Shut up! The pair of you!" Robin hollered over the argument, effectively silencing them. "This is exactly what they want us to do! Fighting amongst ourselves, and save them the trouble. Don't give them the satisfaction! In fact, I think we need to relax."

"Relax?" Will asked.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this before; it's my birthday! Let's celebrate! Let's eat!" Robin announced, giving Much a friendly push in the stomach as he made his way over to the roast hog. Much glanced apprehensively at Little John, checking to make sure that Robin wasn't listening.

"I haven't got a fat face," he mumbled.

"Fat face," Little John said shortly.

"Badger beard," Much retorted.

---

The eating hadn't gone well. Morgan, bothered by her lack of self-control, had muttered an embarrassed apology to Much before refusing food and sequestering herself in a corner of the barn. The rest of the gang had tried to eat, but after a brief exchange between Robin and Ellingham, they weren't exactly eager to chow down.

"Lads, I've got a proposal," Robin said. He wasn't being loud, but his voice filled the barn, drawing their attention. Even Morgan, who hadn't moved from her little corner, glanced over her shoulder, intently listening. Robin continued. "If they don't come to us, we go to them."

"When?" Little John asked.

"First light," Robin had apparently been thinking about his proposal.

"There's too many," Will pointed out.

"We'll die," Djaq blurted.

"It's suicide," Much said flatly. Robin nodded.

"A good day to die," John decided.

"Will you just shut up?" Much asked loudly. "Why does he always say that? Don't even know what it means!"

"We'll all most certainly die," Robin redirected the conversation, "but at least we'll die fighting."

"Yeah, I'm in," Will decided quickly.

"Me too," Djaq nodded.

"Yes," Little John said. Morgan nodded as Robin glanced over at her. He turned to Much, waiting for an answer.

"And me," Much confirmed.

"Good," Robin said softly.

"Then tonight is a Kalila and Dimna night!" Djaq announced, sounding rather perky for someone who was ready to die in the morning.

"What?" Will asked.

"You don't have Kalila and Dimna?" Djaq asked, though she knew the answer.

"Surprisingly not," Much sighed sarcastically.

"Kalila and Dimna night you remember for your whole life. You must speak only the truth. You must ask all your questions, share all your dreams, confess all your secrets," Djaq clarified.

"It's just talking?" Much asked.

"Yes, but it's real talking," Djaq replied. "And if you're too boring, someone shouts 'Kalila', and you lose your turn! You start." She offered the opportunity to Much, but it wasn't one that he readily accepted.

"Oh no," he shuddered.

"Just talk. You like talking," Djaq persisted.

"I know I do, but not like this," Much retorted.

"Fine," Djaq surrendered. "I'll start."

---

Morgan did not like Kalila or Dimna, and she was slightly aggravated that they'd been given a whole night. Sure, Will and Djaq had publicly gotten out their feelings for each other. Adversely, Little John had had a break down, Much had yelled at Robin, and Robin had become all too aware of the fact that he had been inadvertently mistreating his best friend. Djaq kept shooting looks at Morgan, who had stubbornly refused to join them around the fire, even though she was shivering in her corner.

"Morgan, do you want to say anything?" Djaq asked gently. Morgan shook her head, not turning away from the corner.

"Morgan, at least sit by the fire," Will insisted. Again, Morgan shook her head.

"Leave her be. If she doesn't want to talk, you can't force her. We know Morgan. We know her to be a kind person. That should be enough," Little John muttered. At this, Morgan did turn around, she did stand up, and she did speak.

"I'm sorry," she said plainly, her voice cracking from hours of silence. "I'm really sorry." The gang stared at her. They weren't sure why she was apologizing, but they were willing to listen to what she obviously wanted to say.

"You do not know Morgan Weaver," Morgan stated. "You don't know me. If you knew me, you wouldn't call me kind." Robin liked to think that he'd gotten pretty good at reading into what Morgan said, but here he found himself stumped. The inquisitive looks on the others' faces told him that he was not alone.

"When I was in the Holy Land," she started, but she seemed to lose her resolve. She paused, taking a breath before trying again. "I've told you that I've never killed before." That was true. Morgan had said it soon after she'd joined the gang, and they'd never seen her kill a single person.

"That was a lie," Morgan admitted, and she could feel her face growing hot. Her throat became tight, and she choked on the words that she was struggling to say. "When I was in the Holy Land, my mentor taught me that if I wanted to make weapons, I had to know how to wield them. I didn't argue. One night, word came that my brother had been captured. That the King couldn't send help for him. So, I went."

"By yourself?" Robin asked. Morgan shook her head.

"No. There was a young man who'd just arrived in the Holy Lands. His brother was in the King's private guard. He agreed to help me," she explained.

"Carter?" Much guessed. Morgan nodded. She had missed Carter's appearance in Nottingham, having been at her mother's, but she had quickly picked up the details.

"Carter and I found the prison camp where Michael was being held. It was a small village that had been converted by Saracen soldiers. We hit hard and fast," she stopped again, but pressed on. "The village hadn't been evacuated, and we didn't bother to differentiate between the soldiers and the civilians. And they weren't just men. There were women! Children! But I didn't care. They'd taken my brother, and I had my shiny, new weapons!" At this, she could no longer face the people that she thought so highly of, ashamed of her actions. She turned away, fists clenched at her sides as she forced herself to keep going.

"I didn't stop to think!" she said, her voice climbing in volume. "I never stop to think! And I keep killing people because of it! I killed Arnold! I killed Michael! I killed those Saracens! And now, because I didn't stop and look to see those damned mercenaries, I've gone and killed all of you!" Much moved to her, catching her as she allowed herself to falls to her knees, holding her in her arms.

"There was so much blood," she cried into his chest. "And I can still see them."

"Shhh," Much soothed, rocking her back and forth, looking at the rest of the gang. As a courtesy, they all looked away.

---

And there is chapter one! Again, I'm sorry about ripping off the show, but I really wanted to work in the Kalila and Dimna thing for Morgan.

Whew! Emotional chapter, to be sure. I don't think I have anything to say about it.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, even though it was mostly scenes from the finale. (Sorry, again!) Thanks for bearing with me. Please review!


	2. Stifling Silence

Morgan opened her eyes as light trickled through the roof of the camp. For a moment, she stayed in bed, imagining that Much would come over and yell at her to get up. She imagined that maybe Robin would enter the camp after his morning walk and announce that there was a carriage to rob. Then, she reminded herself that it wasn't going to happen.

She wasn't alone, not truly alone. It was obviously quieter, and that was something she still wasn't used to, and the discomfort she felt at its presence was exacerbated by the knowledge that it would not be interrupted by Much's worrying or Allan's stories or Little John's uproarious laughter. They'd all left in a hurry, not even bothering to return to the camp before dashing off to the Holy Land.

How long had it been? She looked up at the ceiling on her lofted bunk, closing her eyes, trying to remember the date. January 14th. Three months. The day that the gang had gone, she'd sent word to her mother and Hollis, explaining that she wouldn't be able to visit and why. She had also sent a letter to Scarborough, informing Will's little brother. She thought that he deserved to know that Will was leaving the county.

They'd both sent word back, and it wasn't long after that that they'd both turned up in Nottingham, ready to help her. Morgan had never asked them for their assistance, but they wouldn't take "no" for an answer. They were still sleeping. Luke had taken Will's cot, and Hollis occupied Much's. Morgan let them sleep, trusting that they would attend to the hunting and wood-gathering in her absence. She had the poor of Nottinghamshire to feed.

Things in Nottingham had continued like clockwork. The guards still showed up everyday, their spirits clearly lifted in the absence of the Sheriff and Guy. Every Thursday, Morgan made her rounds, drawing from the vast stores of their stolen gold to hand down to the poor. The villagers had asked her questions at first, but when they learned that they wouldn't get any answers as to where Robin Hood had gone, they stopped wasting their breath. Later, they'd pick up the story from Poppy, the gossip hound of Nettlestone.

_"Robin Hood and his gang have followed the Sheriff and Guy of Gisborne to the Holy Land. Word is that the Lady Marian is with Guy, and Robin's gone to avenge his broken heart."_ Morgan frowned. Leave it to Poppy to turn every scrap of information into some kind of twisted love affair. Morgan had at least gone to the trouble of making sure that everyone knew that Lady Marian had gone to the Holy Land as a prisoner, and that Robin and his lads were on their way to rescue her and protect the King.

Morgan tried to think of where they all were, and what they might be doing. They'd be traveling by ship, probably in the Holy Land by now. Unless they'd been thrown off course by a storm. Unless their ship had sunk. Unless they were all dead. Morgan screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to think about it. They would make it. They had to make it.

She jumped down from her bunk, looking around the camp. She'd been very careful not to move things, wanting the gang to come back and find everything as they had left it. Hollis and Luke seemed to get the message, and only moved things as was necessary. This had been an easy enough task at first. Morgan spent very little time in the camp during the day, choosing instead to show the boys around the forest, showing them how to check all of the traps that Will had set in the forest, to patrol, and to check up on the families that had been forced out of Locksley by the mercenaries.

The mercenaries were a constant source of aggravation for Morgan. Having the free time that she had, she found that she dedicated a lot of it to thinking how things would've been different if they had never caught them off guard in Nettlestone. Maybe they would've been able to stop the Sheriff and Guy from leaving England in the first place. Then the gang wouldn't have had to go to the Holy Land at all. The fact that the mercenaries hadn't left didn't help Morgan's disposition. Hollis and Luke had learned fairly early that it was unwise to mention them in Morgan's presence.

She got dressed and set out for Clun, whistling as she walked down the well-beaten path. When Allan had come to their rescue at the last minute, when the gang realized that they weren't going to die after all, they'd been ecstatic. The moment of euphoria had been crushed when Allan revealed that the Sheriff and Gisborne were on their way to the Holy Land, Marian in tow. Robin had immediately decided to go to the Holy Land, rescue Marian, and save the King.

The rest of the gang was ready to follow him, as they always did, and Morgan had been so happy that Allan had finally rejoined the gang that she didn't particularly care where they went.

---

_They rode side by side, being as discrete as a newlywed couple that hadn't seen each other in nearly a month could hope to be, keeping towards the back of the group._

_"It's really not that bad," Morgan shrugged. "I mean, it's nothing like England, but it's not as terrible as people say." Allan nodded, shivering slightly. He'd grown used to the thick, warm uniform that he'd worn for months. Being back in his threadbare clothes was unusual for him._

_"I mean, it is supposed to be a Holy Land. I'm guessing that's why most of the men in England shipped out," he muttered. The statement was made casually, but Morgan stopped her horse. The gang had been riding for quite some time, and they instantly noticed the arrhythmic steps of Morgan's horse._

_"Everything alright?" Robin asked from the front of the group._

_"Who's going to help the poor?" Morgan asked. "If we run off to the Holy Land, who will protect Nottingham?" The thought had just occurred to her, and by the looks on everyone else's faces, she wasn't alone._

_"We have to save the King," Much pointed out, glancing at Robin. "And Marian."_

_"But we can't just leave Nottingham unattended," Morgan countered, turning her horse around. "You lot go ahead. I'll stay."_

---

"Thank you!"

"Bless you!"

"You're a kind soul." Morgan had never been the center of attention when they did drops. She wasn't exactly a figure that commanded attention, at least not in the same capacity as Robin or Little John, and she liked it that way. With everyone else gone, though, Morgan had become accustomed to people crowding around her, clamoring for the rations of food and money that she brought with her. She handed out to the last waiting family, a woman with two young children and a newborn baby.

"Hallo, Leah," Morgan whispered as the crowd dispersed. "How's the babe?" Leah stepped closer, holding the child out to the outlaw. Morgan smiled at the baby, inspecting the wide, blue-gray eyes that blinked up at her, the soft tuft of ginger hair that stuck up in a stubborn cowlick.

"Renton's eyes, your hair. She's adorable," Morgan commented, handing a bag full of coins to Leah. "Do you mind if I hold her?" Leah nodded, handing the baby to Morgan.

"Her name's Elizabeth, after you," Leah beamed, laughing at Morgan's surprised stare. "If you hadn't gotten that medicine to us, she wouldn't have made it. We can never thank you enough."

"I can't thank you enough," Morgan corrected with a grin.

"You pay me to make those clothes, Morgan. It's nothing," Leah sighed. "You better get inside, just in case you're seen."

---

"Do you and Allan want children?" Leah asked as she folded the clothes and placed them into the bag that Morgan had brought with her. Jill, who was still shy around their visitor, hid behind her mother's skirts, peeking out when she thought Morgan wasn't looking. Morgan gently laid Elizabeth in her bassinette, covering her up with a blanket.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "We haven't really had time to discuss that sort of thing. Not being funny, but I've only seen him three times since we got married." Morgan was exaggerating, but her point was well seen. Leah proffered a sympathetic smile.

"Well, when Robin brings King Richard back from the Holy Land, everything will be better. You and Allan will be able to settle down, and we'll get a decent sheriff that doesn't keep my husband working all the time," she thought aloud. Morgan smiled at the thought of the gang returning, but was quickly pulled from the thought by a small hand tugging on her cloak. Morgan smiled and crouched next to Renton's son, Adam.

"Morgan, when Robin Hood comes back, will he visit us?" he asked hopefully. Morgan ruffled his hair.

"I'll talk to him. He's a very busy man, but I'm sure he'll try and find the time," she nodded, careful to avoid words such as "promise" or "definitely." It was enough for Adam, who picked up his toy sword from the corner, brandishing it as he ran out the door, crying out to his friends. Leah grinned after him and handed Morgan the mended clothes.

"Thanks, Leah. I swear, those two are growing like weeds," Morgan thanked. "If there's anything you need, let me know."

---

Morgan quickened her pace as she neared Nottingham. It was her last drop for the day, and she felt mixed emotions as she neared. She was glad that it was her last drop, because she was quite frankly exhausted. She was definitely not happy about having to go to Nottingham. The man that Prince John had sent to run things was not nearly as clever as the Sheriff, but he was just as, if not more, repulsive. It was obvious by his rotund build that he'd never seen a hard day's work in his life, preferring to leech off of the labor of others.

In addition to raising taxes since he'd arrived, the man, who Morgan called "Temporary Sheriff" or "Temp" when pressed for time, had passed a mandate that required all of the castle guards to sleep in the barracks. Poor Renton hadn't seen his family in nearly two weeks. Fortunately, a number of the guards had quickly grown irritated with Temporary Sheriff, and, in an act of private rebellion led by Renton, allowed Morgan to pass freely through Nottingham when they could.

She did her work quickly, eager to catch up on the latest news from the castle and get back to the camp. The sun was lazily falling below the horizon, its last rays winking across the landscape, lighting the sky. Morgan sighed. It would be the middle of the night in the Holy Lands, if she had to guess. She wondered just where the gang was, and what they were up to.

---

Allan had never seen so much ocean in his life, and after spending the worst part of the past three months bent over the railings of the ship, he was pretty sure that he'd had his fill for a while. The moonlight reflected off of the water, bouncing up into his face as he took deep breaths, trying to calm his stomach. Everyone else was sleeping, not nearly as affected by the tumultuous waters as he was.

"Not being funny, but I should've stayed in England," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, if you'd done that, you wouldn't have been able to give us all of that information that you did, and we wouldn't know where to sail to." To Allan's surprise, it wasn't Will who had come to check on him, but Much. Since Allan's return, he'd been perhaps overly polite to the whole group, walking on eggshells. He took their teasing in stride, and Much had been teasing a bit more than the others. Still, he was grateful that the former manservant had come to check on him.

"It helps if you sit in the middle of the deck and look at the horizon," Much suggested, helping Allan along. Had he not been so violently nauseous, Allan would've laughed at the fact that Much had better sea legs than he did. "I got sick when we went the first time." Allan managed a smile, feeling slightly less terrible, but still far from well.

"Thanks, Much," he mumbled, feeling that Much didn't hear those words enough. Much grinned, sitting down next to him.

"Don't worry about it. You can see the Holy Land from here. See?" Allan followed Much's point to a dot in the distance. "We'll be there soon." Much sounded as enthusiastic as Allan felt about getting off the ship. The sooner they got to the Holy Land, the sooner they could save King Richard and Marian. The sooner they saved King Richard and Marian, the sooner they could go home. To England. To Nottingham. To Morgan.

"Thinking about her, are you?" Much asked. He grinned when Allan looked at him, puzzled as to how he'd known. "You were making the same face that she does when she thinks about you. Hopeless romantics, the pair of you."

"That tends to happen when you marry someone," Allan chuckled. "You know what?"

"What?" Much asked, wondering if he'd ever had such a pleasant conversation with Allan before.

"The next time that I say that I have a wife to think about, it won't be a lie," he grinned slyly, harkening back to when they'd first formed the gang, when Allan had lied to the Sheriff's men. Much sniggered, clapping Allan on the shoulders before heading below deck.

---

Morgan kept her head down as Temporary Sheriff paraded through the streets, returning from some meeting he'd had with, Morgan assumed, a messenger from Prince John. Unfortunately, he was familiar with Morgan. On his way to Nottingham, the first day after the gang had left for the Holy Lands, Morgan had ambitiously tried to ambush his carriage. To her, it was just another carriage.

To Temporary Sheriff, it was a grand announcement of her presence, an introduction to the biggest thorn in his side that he would encounter. The fat, lout of a man strolled past, and Morgan slipped into the line of guards and servants that followed after him. The way that he flaunted his position made it oh-so easy for Morgan to go undetected. As soon as she was safely inside the castle, she peeled away from the entourage, choosing a corridor that would lead to Renton's post.

"Rent," she whispered, catching his attention. He looked around, nodding as soon as he was sure the coast was clear. "Anything?"

"Big thing," Renton murmured, a degree of panic in his voice. "I assume that you saw Temp returning from Locksley."

"Locksley?" Morgan asked incredulously. "Why was he in Locksley?"

"He's just dismissed the army of mercenaries," Renton answered, removing his helmet and running his fingers through his hair.

"Good," Morgan hissed, her contempt of Ellingham and his men shining through.

"Bad," Renton corrected, shaking his head. "He's decided that he's not going to pay them." Morgan's eyes widened, and she sputtered, momentarily unable to speak.

"Is he mad?" she demanded, finally regaining her ability to speak. "Those mercenaries out number you lot at least three to one! He's going to have a fight on his hands."

"Don't think I don't know it," Renton muttered flatly. "I reckon we've got until tomorrow before they mobilize. They'll come here for sure. They'll want their money."

"And they won't hesitate to destroy Nottingham to get it," Morgan finished, pulling her hand across her face, sighing. "Temp is a bigger fool that I thought. Look, Rent. This is going to get ugly. I'll try to come up with a plan. In the meantime, I need you alert the towns people. Get them out of here."

"What about Temp?" Renton asked.

"I'll take care of Temp," Morgan reassured, patting Renton on the shoulder before ducking inside.

---

The temporary sheriff's real name was Dunstan, and he was blissfully unaware that the castle guard called him Temp. He supposed that he was doing a good job. Other than the occasional theft by that outlaw, he hadn't had a bit of trouble. The people always paid their taxes, and there was no sign of any problems. He hardly understood what all of the fuss what about.

"You must be the most foolish person in the whole world." Dunstan sighed, turning to see Morgan standing in the doorway, pointing an arrow at his head. He supposed that _that_ was what all of the fuss was about. He knew that the Sheriff had had to deal with Robin Hood, and he supposed that the castle's old blacksmith was acting in Hood's absence.

"I mean, honestly. You told them that you wouldn't pay them?" Morgan asked, stepping forward.

"They did not fulfill their contract. It would not be fiscally sound to pay them," Dunstan explained thickly. Morgan scoffed, shaking her head.

"Have you ever dealt with mercenaries?" she asked, though she was sure that the answer was 'no.' "You really think that they'll just pick up and leave?"

"They have no reason to stay," he returned thickly. Frustrated, Morgan let out a strangled yell, stamping her foot in annoyance. Had she not been holding a bow and arrow, she probably would've thrown her hands up, but as it was, she shook her head again.

"You are an idiot, Temp," she said through clenched teeth. "The reason for them to stay is the large amount of gold that you were supposed to pay them! They will probably be here by morning." She expected Temporary Sheriff to perhaps panic, or realize his mistake. When he did nothing, it only added to her mounting frustration.

"Not being funny, Temp, but you must have a well-connected cousin or something," she muttered.

"So the mercenaries will come here?" Dunstan asked. "They have more men."

"Yes, that would be the point of this little meeting," Morgan rolled her eyes. "You need a plan, and I have one." She never thought she'd miss the Sheriff, but Temp tended to put things into perspective.

---

So, here's chapter two. First of all, I love Renton. He's probably my favorite secondary OC I've ever written. Writing his family made me smile. Second of all, there will be a few more flashes to the Holy Land, but this story will largely be centered in Nottingham.

The next few chapters are going to be something of a flashback-o-rama, in the sense that there will be flashbacks out the wazoo, but also in the sense that I'm going to bring back a slew of secondary characters from the show.

No expense has been spared! No character left unmentioned! SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY! …Or chapter three. Sorry, I've been falling asleep to movies again…

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Please, review!


	3. Stand and Deliver

Morgan stood before the entire garrison, trying not to let them see how bad her knees were shaking or how completely knackered she was. In the wild world of politics, appearances were half of the game. She searched for Renton, who met her eyes and gave her an encouraging nod.

"Hallo, gents," she smiled. The situation could've been described as awkward at best. When Morgan had been the castle blacksmith, she'd befriended most of the men standing before her. Since she'd joined the outlaws, most of the men had tried to kill her at one point or another. Now, faced with the possibility of death and destruction, she made an appeal to the more caring aspects of their nature.

"I know that most of you would sooner shot me than give me the opportunity to speak, but, trust me, this is really important." A dull murmur rippled through the guards. Many of them had just been pulled from their beds and asked to help evacuate the town, given no reason as to why. "Temp has made a huge mistake."

This offered no surprise to the guards. Temporary Sheriff was a blundering oaf of a man. It was a common assumption that a well-off family member had gotten him the job, because he was certainly no Vaysey. Still, they were eager to learn the details of their so-called leader's error. Morgan waited for the chatter to die down before she continued.

"He's dismissed Ellingham and his men without payment. By my guess, they'll be here in the morning," she announced, pausing for the shouting and jeering that inevitably followed.

"Alright, already! Calm down!" she hollered over the din. "I know, it's not the ideal situation to be in, but I think that we can pull through!"

"What do you mean 'we'?" one of the younger guards in the front of the crowd asked.

"You lot and me and whoever else shows up to help us," Morgan explained, running a hand through her hair.

"Why do you want to help us?" another guard asked. Morgan sighed. She'd really been hoping to avoid this.

"Because I don't want to see Nottingham burned to the ground," she snapped. The dull roar quieted immediately. Morgan took a deep breath. "Look. If Prince John hears that the town's been overrun by mercenaries, he'll send an army to wipe them out. They're not going to think twice about destroying everything in sight."

"What's the plan?" The speaker's name was Tanner, a younger bloke and Renton's best friend. He was regarded as somewhat self-absorbed, but he was pragmatic enough when the situation called for it.

"Well, the obvious thing to do would be to give them their money and send them on their way," Morgan started.

"What if they take the money and then attack us anyway?" Morgan didn't see the speaker, but she knew that he spoke for everyone in the room. Ellingham was a proud man. He would not just leave after being insulted.

"We can't go toe to toe with them, obviously," Morgan pressed forward. "There are about a hundred of us, and three hundred of them." She figured there was no point in dancing around the issue. "We're going to have to use strategy. We'll take it in three steps. The first day, we'll only use archers and focus on taking theirs down. Second day, we send out small groups and attack them in bursts. Third day, we let them in."

"That's suicide," someone remarked from the back of the room. Morgan nodded, gently chewing at the knuckle of her index finger.

"The castle is like a labyrinth, and we need to use that to our advantage. We know the layout; they don't. You're right, though. It is suicide," she agreed. "So, I'll understand if anyone wants to leave." She waited, expecting half of the men to pack up and shuffle out of the room, taking the chance while they could.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll not be the one who leaves the defense of his home to a girl," Tanner commented loudly, crossing his arms across his chest, as if challenging the rest of the men to stay.

"What do we do about Temp?" Someone asked, pushing their meeting forward. Morgan let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"There isn't much we can do about Temp but keep him alive," she admitted. "He dies, and this whole mess will get a lot messier."

"I can go to the villages, see if there's anyone who can stand with us," Renton offered. Several men stood with him, ready to help. Morgan nodded gratefully.

"Alright. In the meantime, we'll need an inventory. Find out how much food and water we've got. How many weapons. Medical supplies," Morgan ticked off on her fingers as she went, glad when people filed out of the room to take care of things. People really didn't give the castle guard enough credit. They were nice enough, when the Sheriff wasn't breathing down their necks.

"Everyone else, get some rest," she dismissed, waiting until all of the guards had shuffled out of the room before allowing herself to sit down, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. Tanner stayed behind, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You know I wasn't insulting you, right?" he asked, referring to his earlier comment. "I was only making sure that they didn't walk out." Morgan nodded, affording a tired smile.

"Aye, I understand," she muttered through a yawn. "Can you handle things here?"

"Where are you going?" Tanner asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Home," Morgan yawned. "I've got to tend to the lads."

---

Hollis pulled the lever that granted him access to the camp. The fire was roaring, but Morgan wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead, there was Luke, sitting on Will's bunk, whittling away.

"Hollis, you alright then?" he asked, discarding the stick he'd been hacking at. While he had the talent for carpentry, he didn't have that same passion that his brother did. To Luke, carpentry was more of a hobby. Being honest, he preferred fishing.

"Yeah, mate," Hollis answered, tossing the brace of rabbits he'd caught onto the table. "Conies for supper, I think."

"Fantastic," Luke muttered, holding a carving up, turning it in his hands. "Does this look like a wolf?"

"Looks a bit doggy," Hollis smirked. Had drum sets been invented in the 12th century, Luke would've faked a rimshot at the corny line, but as it was he sniggered at the play on words, shaking his head and wondering if he'd been in the woods for too long.

"Alright, then, boys," Morgan announced herself as she stepped into the camp.

"About time you wandered in. We were about to send out a search party," Hollis muttered from the kitchen, skillfully chopping vegetables.

"The mercenaries are going to attack Nottingham," Morgan blurted out, too tired to soften the blow. Without missing a beat, Luke tossed his carving to the side and picked up the hatchet that he kept by his bunk. Hollis carefully replaced Much's cooking knife before picking up his sword.

"Right, what's the plan?" Hollis asked. Morgan shook her head.

"No. You two aren't tagging along," she said firmly, hands moving to her hips. The teenagers exchanged significant looks.

"Come on, Morgan. We know that the castle guard is out numbered. You'll need all the men that you can get," Hollis pointed out. Luke nodded to confirm the statement, and for a moment, Morgan was strongly reminded of Robin and Will. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"No," she repeated stubbornly. "You're barely sixteen, Hollis. And I promised Will that I'd watch after you." Morgan shot a look at Luke.

"Well, if you plan to go to Nottingham, then how're you going to look after me unless I go with you? If I go with you, we can't possibly leave Hollis by himself," the younger Scarlet brother reasoned. Morgan let out an exhausted laugh.

"If you two are that determined, I have a very important job for you."

---

Luke had never been inside the castle, per se. He'd been in the dungeon, and he'd made the terrifying march out to the scaffold, but he'd never roamed the halls. He was sure that Hollis had never been either, the same wonderment written on his features.

"Them?" the guard was asking, peeking around Morgan.

"Yes. I know they're young, but they have just as much cause to be here as anyone else. Trust me, Tanner. They're good," Morgan defended, glancing back at the boys and flashing a supportive smile. The guard sighed and shook his head.

"As far as we're concerned, you're in charge here. Do what you need to do," he submitted.

"Did Rent come back from the villages yet?" she asked quietly, leaning in slightly. Tanner looked around.

"Well, they keep trickling in, but I don't think he's finished. It looks better than it did before, but not by much," he intimated, making sure that none of the men passing by would hear. Sure, they already knew they were outnumbered, but hearing the fact repeated couldn't possibly be good for morale. Squeezing Tanner's shoulder and telling him to fetch her should anything happen, Morgan led the boys to the sheriff's room, where Dunstan was sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting nervously.

"Oy, Temp," Morgan announced. "Allow me to introduce your bodyguards. This is Hollis, and this is Luke Scarlet. Be nice to them, because they'll likely be saving your life." Morgan turned on heel, facing them and ignoring Dunstan's protests.

"Prince John sent_him_?" Luke asked skeptically.

"We suspect that he's got a wealthy cousin," Morgan muttered. "Now, if anything goes wrong, you two have to protect him. If he dies, then we'll have Prince John's army to deal with. Not being funny, but I don't think we can deal with that lot." Luke smiled and nodded reassuringly. It was the most noticeable difference between the Scarlet brothers. Will smiled only occasionally, as if he was afraid to do so. Luke, who was a bit younger, was more open with his emotions.

"No worries, Morgan. We can handle it," he promised. "What do we do until the mercenaries get here?"

"Rest," was the simple answer. "You'll need it." Morgan looked like she needed it more than they did, but they agreed with her, following her down to the hallway. According to the young guard's report, the barracks were already full to the brim. By Luke's count, that meant there were at least 150 men. The number was engraved in his head. 150. The number of beds that his father had made with Will's help. Luke had been "too young" at the time, and instead kept busy by tending to his ailing mother.

Hollis nudged his friend in the shoulder.

"Hey, if the barracks is full, where do you think we're going?" he asked quietly. Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Somewhere with a bed, I suppose," he mused. "Morgan looks like she's about to pass out on her feet." Hollis glanced over at the blacksmith, who looked every bit as tired as Luke had said. Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy, oak door. Morgan unceremoniously kicked it open, revealing a dark room. Once their eyes adjusted, they could make out a desk and chair and a plush looking bed. Luke stared. It was bigger than the bed that his whole family had shared in Locksley.

Morgan kicked off her boots and draped her cloak over a chair by a desk collapsing on the bed without a thought.

"Whose bed is this?" Hollis asked, hopping on one foot as he took his own boots off and headed towards the bed at the same time. Luke rolled his eyes at the impractical procedure and leaned on the desk as he removed his boots and placed them neatly by the door.

"Lady Marian's." the reply was muffled, seeing as Morgan was facedown in one of the pillows and apparently half asleep. Hollis froze, as if the bed had suddenly become some unknown, hostile territory. He shot a look to Luke.

"Is it proper to sleep in her bed without her permission?" he whispered.

"I don't think Lady Marian will mind. It's not like she's going to sail back from the Holy Land and tell us to get out," Luke retorted. "Besides, what do you care about proper?" Hollis grinned, flopping down on the bed.

"Your point is well seen," he admitted, sighing at the comfort provided by the soft bed. Luke sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing and lying back on the empty third of the bed.

"There still aren't enough men," he commented. "Those mercenaries are well trained. You've seen the guards fight."

"Yeah, not exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer," Hollis agreed. "They try, though. You've got to give them that."

"I suppose," Luke murmured, but in his mind he was back on the scaffold, just after Robin had shot the rope around his neck. He couldn't really remember the guards putting up an amazing fight. His friend seemed to sense his doubt.

"Well, maybe we'll get some help," Hollis proposed optimistically. "Maybe the mercenaries will all fall ill, or maybe they'll leave once they have their money."

"And maybe the Sheriff will stop taxing people to death and donate to charity," Luke joked. Hollis cracked up at the mere suggestion.

---

Stepping off of the boat was disconcerting, to say the least. After months of rocking around on the boat, the feel of solid ground under his feet through him off, causing him to stagger and trip over his feet for the first few minutes. It was like being drunk without having any ale, which just seemed unfair to him.

"You alright, Allan?" Robin asked as the tavern trickster bumped into him, reflexively latching onto his shoulders to steady himself. Allan muttered under his breath, embarrassed as he removed himself from his leader. He noticed that John was having similar troubles, but the woodsman had his quarterstaff to lean on, making his difficulties less evident.

"I'm fine," he finally announced, ignoring Much's sniggering.

"Much, leave him alone," Robin reprimanded for what seemed like the millionth time. Allan didn't quite understand Robin's complete turnaround, but that didn't mean he wasn't grateful for it. At first, he'd joined in on the teasing, laughing along with the others. About a week or two into their journey, however, he'd stopped, going so far as to defend Allan, like he was doing now. "Allan, it's okay. You've never been on a boat before."

Allan nodded, feeling more confident and less nauseous. Robin grinned, leading the gang forward. Part of his newfound protectiveness for Allan stemmed from guilt. After learning about all of the things that Allan had done to try and keep them safe, he felt bad about his initial wave of anger and stubbornness. The least he could do was to get the rest of the gang to stop picking on him.

Of course, another part of it was that he'd made a promise to Morgan. When she'd first told the gang that she was staying behind, Allan had insisted on staying with her. Perhaps she'd realized just how much they'd need him in the Holy Land. For whatever reason, Morgan had dragged Allan off to the side, and after a moment of lively discussion, she'd convinced him to go with the lads.

Before she'd ridden back to Nottingham, she'd pulled Robin to the side as well.

_"Allan can help you in the Holy Land. Robin, can you help him, too? Keep him safe?"_ After the request, she'd looked embarrassed, as if a part of her knew that Robin would do what he could to make sure everyone got home safely. Robin had caught sight of the ring on her finger, and he understood completely, recalling a similar favor he'd asked of Will when soldiers marched on Nottingham.

So, when Robin tuned back in to the group and caught Much pulling the "hands up if you've never betrayed the gang" bit, he was quick to reprimand him again.

---

"Shhh. You'll give us away," the man whispered, peering through a bush and staring into Locksley. His friend crouched beside him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, twigs cracking under his feet.

"How do we even know that those rumors were true?" he asked. The first man sighed.

"We don't. That's why we're doing some scouting," he replied.

"Well, what if it isn't true?" the second persisted. "Then we'll have crouched behind a bush for hours for nothing!"

"Well, what if we hadn't come, and it _was_ true? They're going to need our help. That old gossip in Nettlestone said that Robin Hood's gang was holed up in Nottingham. We owe it to Robin to help," the first muttered.

"Do you reckon that he'll remember us, Hanton?" the second changed the subject, resigning himself to his discomfort. "We didn't exactly travel with him for the longest time."

"He should. If he doesn't, John and Roy will," the first reasoned. "And he told us to head south and see what good we could do. Anyway, Forest, we're not doing this for recognition. This is to help Nottingham and all." The second outlaw nodded, conceding to this point.

"It'll be nice to see the lads again," he commented lightly. Hanton smiled.

"Yeah, I reckon it will."

---

For those of you wondering, Forest and Hanton were the two guys traveling with Little John at the very beginning of series one. I don't think the show ever said what happened to them, but they randomly disappeared.

So, the scene with Robin and Allan was kind of a last minute addition. Rewatching the finale (save the soul-killing end), I noticed that in the scene where they first arrive in the Holy Land, Will is running along with Much's teasing, and Robin is being rather protective. I asked myself, "Why?" I guess this is the answer I came up with.

I love writing Hollis and Luke. Friendship is good for the soul.

Not really much else to say.

Hope you enjoy! Please review!


	4. Surprises and Apologies

By the time Hollis rolled out of bed, Luke was already washing up, and Morgan was long gone. Hollis vaguely remembered her slipping out of the room, a sliver of light from the torch outside slicing into the dark.

"Bout time you got up," Luke muttered, shaking the water off of his hands. He pointed at a small plate sitting on the desk. "That Tanner bloke brought some bread and cheese. No time for anything amazing, I'm afraid." Hollis examined the food, slicing off a chunk of cheese and folding a piece of bread around it.

"I've already eaten," Luke said quickly when Hollis pushed the plate towards him. Hollis was sure that his friend hadn't eaten at all, instead guessing that he was too nervous to do so.

"If you don't eat now, you'll regret it later," he replied sagely, pushing the plate once more. Luke sighed and nodded, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "mother hen" as he tore off a piece of bread.

"Morgan's in the Great Hall," he announced. "We're supposed to go see her when we're ready."

"Oh," Hollis commented absently, moving towards the window. He chewed at his cheese sandwich, squinting into the distance, as if trying to decide something.

"What are you looking at?" Luke asked.

"I don't know." The cryptic reply was enough to get Luke to look out of the window as well. He turned to Hollis, raising an eyebrow. Hollis stared back at him.

"So, I assume that you can see them, too, right?" he asked. Luke nodded. Hollis waited a moment.

"Morgan is in the Great Hall, you said?" Another nod. Hollis looked forlornly at his unfinished breakfast and dashed out of the room, Luke right on his heels.

---

Morgan was indeed in the Great Hall, passing out weapons as Renton gave her a quick report.

"There are thirty of them," he debriefed as they moved. "Plus the fifteen that I sent during the night. So, there's about a hundred and eighty of us. It's not ideal, but it's better than before."

"Go lie down, Rent," Morgan interrupted, frowning as she handed a sword to a boy that hardly looked old enough to be there. "You haven't slept yet, and you've been out all night."

"I'm fine," Renton argued, though he wasn't sure how he was still standing. "Besides, you need my help."

"We'll need it more later," Morgan countered simply, concern in her eyes as she looked over at her friend.

"Give it up, Rent," Tanner laughed as he walked by, arms full of helmets. His own was missing, and his dark hair stood up at seemingly impossible angles. "If you don't sleep now, you'll have to sleep later. Then what are you going to do when the mercenaries get here? Drool on them?"

"Where's your helmet?" Renton asked, trying to change the subject and momentarily succeeding.

"I'm giving it to one of the peasants. We don't have enough of them here. Ever since the blacksmith took off, the sheriff hasn't found one that he liked enough to keep around," Tanner explained, winking at Morgan as he passed out the helmets. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll check on the lads outside." Just as he was exiting the room, it occurred to Renton that the younger man hadn't slept either, but Morgan cut him off before he could mention this to her.

"I doubt that I'll have time to make more armor, but I'll see what I can do," she muttered flatly, though there was half a grin on her lips. "In the meantime, Renton Faulkner, I expect you to get some rest. Leah will kill me if you die from something as stupid as exhaustion." His wife's name seemed to persuade him, but there was still an air of unwillingness as Renton trudged to the barracks.

"Morgan!" The frantic call had a chilling effect on the Great Hall. The constant sound of chatter, the metallic clanging of swords and armor, the footsteps of those rushing about all ceased in a second. The deafening silence that coated the hall was broken by the slow, hissing sound of Morgan drawing her sword. Hollis, who had made the call, skidded onto the balcony, taking a moment to catch his breath as Luke followed him inside. The teenagers seemed to miss the effect they'd had.

"Morgan," Luke finally picked up, "Something's happening outside!"

"Ellingham?" Morgan asked as those who were armed scrambled for their weapons.

"Yes and no," Hollis finished.

---

"How do you like that?" Hanton crowed as he and Forrest sped towards the gates. Their gang followed, moving as a unit as they shot a flurry of arrows, keeping the mercenaries a safe distant away.

"Don't give them time to draw their weapons!" Forrest hollered, though they hardly needed to be reminded. They'd waited until the mercenaries had set off for Nottingham, using their knowledge of Sherwood's various paths to ambush them en route. They'd taken the mercenaries completely by surprise and managed to cut down a sizable chunk before deciding to continue to Nottingham.

"Open the gate!" The order came from the battlements, where a younger looking soldier was rousing troops. To the great surprise of the outlaws, the guards provided them with cover fire while the gate creaked open, allowing them entrance to the town's marketplace.

"Very cunning!" Ellingham sneered, his face red with humiliation. "I suppose you thought that was a winning move!"

""Too right!" the younger guard replied tauntingly, "You'll not take Nottingham!"

"Without a fight? Save your breath, boy. We've heard this before!" As if demonstrating the fact that he was not amused, Ellingham feigned an exaggerated yawn.

"You'll not take Nottingham at all!" the guard corrected. As if demonstrating the fact that he was not intimidated, he made an exceptionally rude gesture that no one should ever make and shall not be described here.

Hanton decided that this opinionated guard, whoever he was, wasn't that bad. He nudged Forrest, nodding at the guard with approval. Forrest waved up at the young man as he quickly descended from the battlements. Unlike the guards they'd encounter in the past, this one was smiling at him. He wore no helmet, and he actually looked like a regular bloke.

"Thanks for the cover," Forrest said loudly. "I'm Forrest. This is Hanton. We're Robin Hood's men." The guard leaned on the iron portcullis that separated the newly arrived group from the castle, regarding them with reasonable suspicion.

"I've never seen you with Robin Hood before," he stated simply, nothing accusatory in his tone. Hanton and Forrest exchanged glances. They'd expected as much.

"We're part of the outer circle," Hanton explained.

"You won't be offended if I ask for proof, will you?" the guard asked. Forrest shook his head, tugging at the twine around his neck, fishing the wooden tag from under his shirt.

"This proof enough?" he asked, stepping towards the portcullis and holding the trinket up. The guard nodded, carefully considering the tag. After a moment, he knocked on the portcullis, signaling the others to open it.

"I'm Tanner," he introduced. "Thanks for coming."

"We've got about twenty, counting us," Forrest provided. Even though Tanner hadn't asked, the question was obviously on his mind. They followed him towards the castle, reflecting on the last time that they'd been there. The situations were markedly different, Hanton mused. The last time that he'd walked past the scaffold, he's been more than unsure about Robin of Locksley and his seemingly impossible goals. In the nearly two years since that day, he'd seen first hand just how much of a difference a small group could make.

That's why, when word had reached them that Robin and the gang were in trouble, they came running. They respected Robin, not to mention Little John, and they were willing to do what they could to help. The rest of their gang, which was comprised of various people that they'd helped over the past two years, needed little convincing.

"Hallo, gents," a snippet of a woman called as a greeting, meeting them on the steps. She was flanked on either side by two teenagers. Forrest couldn't help but think that one of them looked familiar.

"They're part of the outer circle," Tanner explained, saving them the trouble.

"Little John's gang, then?" the woman asked perceptively.

"That's right, and who are you?" Hanton asked in a guarded tone.

"I'm Morgan," she paused, holding out her hand. "Morgan A Dale. This is Luke Scarlet and Hollis." At the sound of their respective names, the boys nodded.

"A Dale? Are you Allan's sister?" Forrest asked, taking Morgan's hand and grinning. "You don't look a thing like him."

"That's because I'm not his sister," Morgan grinned. "I'm his wife." She supposed that she should've expected the sniggers that followed. To those that didn't know him, Allan didn't come across as the sort that supported a monogamous relationship. Realizing that this was not a joke, and that there were more pressing matters at hand, Forrest cleared his throat.

"So, where's Robin?" he asked. "Off making some sort of grand battle plan, no doubt."

"Are we talking about the same Robin?" Morgan asked with a smile, turning back towards the castle, gesturing for them to follow.

"Robin's in the Holy Land," Tanner informed bluntly.

"And the gang went with him," Morgan added. "I'm afraid it's just me, Luke, and Hollis. And the castle guard, of course."

"And you're part of the gang?" Hanton asked skeptically. Just as Forrest had done at the portcullis, Morgan pulled at what Hanton had initially thought to be a necklace, revealing a wooden tag, the carved symbol it boasted unmistakable. Luke and Hollis mirrored her actions.

"We are Robin Hood," they said together.

"What?" Forrest asked, not bothering to hide his confusion.

"We'll explain later," Luke grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. He'd reacted in a similar way when Morgan had first used the phrase around him.

---

"We should talk." Allan paused and shook his head, absorbing the silence. "I just feel that we've not had a proper chance to sort things, what with you and Djaq." Realizing how that might've sounded, he quickly added, "Not that I'm not completely happy for the two of you, because I am."

"That may be more effective if you tell something that can speak English." Allan jumped at the sudden voice, turning on heel to face Robin. His leader was grinning. "Or at least something that's human." He raised an eyebrow at Allan's makeshift Will, a broom, and looked expectantly at Allan.

"I just wanted to make sure that the air was clear," Allan explained hastily. "But I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him alone."

"Right," Robin said knowingly. "Well, I'm sure that Will will be more responsive than the broom."

"One would hope," Allan commented smirked. "But then again, it is Will 'Five-words-per-year' Scarlet." Robin chuckled at the comment and clapped Allan on the shoulder.

"Don't think about it too much," he advised, turning to leave and give Allan some space. As he reached to doorway, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "By the way, you could start by telling him that you're not being funny. It seems to work for you."

"Thanks," Allan retorted dryly. "Like that'll work."

---

"I'm not being funny, but can I pry you from Djaq's side long enough to have a chat?" Allan started, giving Will his most winning grin. Will laughed lightly and nodded, giving Djaq's shoulder a squeeze before following Allan down a corridor, away from the rest of the gang.

"Will, I just wanted to say," Allan started, noting that Will was about to say something. "No, don't interrupt. I have to say this."

"Allan," Will began, stopping abruptly when Allan held up a hand, an interesting trick he'd picked up from Guy.

"Will, you've never been talkative before. For the love of God, please don't start now," Allan pleaded, taking a deep breath. "Will, I've said it a million times before, but I really am sorry. I should've never done what I did. Yeah, I got food whenever I was hungry and all the ale I could drink, and the money was great, but I felt so empty inside."

"Allan," Will tried again, but Allan kept going.

"I feel terrible about it, and I don't think that I'll fully get over it. You have to understand that I would've never done anything to put the gang in danger. You lot are the closest thing I have to a family, and I hated waking up and facing the fact that I had messed it all up. But that's all I ever do is mess things up, especially with the people that I care about," Allan mused.

"Allan?" For a third time, Will's attempt was overridden.

"Well, I'm through with messing things up! You are like my brother, Will Scarlet. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You are like my brother, and I love you, and I want you to hit me," Allan said, turning his head and exposing the left side of his face. "Not too hard, though, because it still hurts from when Little John hit me."

Will stared. To him, the things that Allan had confessed in the last part of the apology that he'd clearly practiced didn't make any sense. Not the part about Little John. Will was pretty sure that if Little John had hit _him_ in the face, he wouldn't have gotten back up.

"I'm sorry, you want me to what?" he asked, checking to make sure that he'd heard correctly.

"I don't want there to be any anger or whatever between us. So, hit me," Allan repeated. To Allan, it was how this sort of thing was done. At least, that's how it'd been with Tom. Problem. Yelling. Hitting. Done.

Allan braced himself and waited for the punch that he was sure was coming. It didn't, and he slowly opened an eye. Will wasn't raising his fist or even glaring at him. On the contrary, he was clutching his sides, shaking with laughter.

"You," he managed as his laughter subsided, "are just as bad as Robin sometimes." His laughing picked up again, and for a minute, Allan was left feeling confused, not to mention stupid. Finally, Will calmed down enough to speak.

"I was trying to tell you earlier," he started, waiting to see if Allan would interrupt again before he continued. "I forgive you Allan. I forgave you months ago."

"Oh," Allan said softly, feeling rather foolish. "So, I take it that you and Lukey didn't hit each other growing up?"

"Are you kidding?" Will asked. "Lukey hates fighting."

---

"FIGHT! GIVE THEM HELL! FOR NOTTINGHAM!" Luke bellowed, raising his sword, signaling for the archers to release their arrows. They'd never struck Luke as being particularly skilled. He guessed that this was because they'd never been faced with the threat of losing their homes or their lives. After all, Robin was known for his no-killing rule. The mercenaries, on the other hand, held ideologies quite the opposite of the Lord of Locksley's. Perhaps motivated by this fact, the guards didn't hesitate in shooting to kill.

"Luke!" At the sound of his name, he turned, catching sight of Hollis standing on an adjacent turret. He also caught sight of the pointed blur as it sliced through the air.

"Hollis, duck!" he barked, his eyes widening. Hollis didn't hesitate and narrowly missed taking the arrow in the back. Hollis stood, notching an arrow in his bow, prompting the rest of the archers to follow, launching another shower into the mercenaries below. As per Morgan's orders, they targeted the opposing archer's first. The mercenaries had been unprepared; they'd clearly expected a less organized defense, falling quickly.

"I was going to say," Hollis called, this time keeping his bow drawn and ready, "that it's kind of funny that Robin's still helping us, even if he's not here."

"You mean because of Forrest and Hanton?" Luke asked, allowing Tanner to take over. Hollis nodded, staring unblinkingly as he released his arrow. Luke followed it into the ranks of the mercenaries, where it landed in the center of a man's chest. Hollis was a pretty good shot, he thought to himself. Cocky, but a good shot. He reminded Luke of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on whom that person was.

"Do you think there'll be others?" Luke asked, as the battle continued around them.

"Probably," Hollis decided.

---

"I told you, I am but a messenger," he repeated, smiling amicably at the hired killer. "As you can clearly see, I am not armed." The mercenary considered this fact, looking the man up and down. He was skinny with thinning, ginger hair. He had several tattoos, mostly hidden by his clothing, but other than that, he looked harmless enough.

"I wasn't even going to Locksley," the messenger pointed out. "I just thought to rest there."

"Where were you heading then?" the mercenary asked.

"I have a message for a friend that lives near Clun," the messenger replied smoothly.

"Who sent you?" the mercenary asked, holding his sword aloft.

"Prince Malik, nephew of Saladin," the messenger answered casually.

"Right, and I'm the King of England," the mercenary snorted.

"Nice to meet you," the messenger smiled again. Without warning, he grabbed the mercenary by the wrist, stepping to the side and pulling the man off balance. In that instant, the man released his sword in surprise, and that was the last mistake he ever made. As the messenger cleanly sliced into the mercenary, and then into the small gaggle that had surrounded him, he finished his introduction. "My name is Harold."

---

And so we meet the next member of our makeshift gang! I rather liked Harold. He was a bit like a medieval Frank Parker. Ten Points if you get that reference.

Anyway, I've been rather irked about the fact that Allan and Will never had a proper reconciliation, so I decided to write one. I'm afraid that it's absolute rubbish, but I felt that rubbish was better than nothing at all. So, sorry if it's rubbish, but hurray for WillAllan!friendship?

Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	5. Sinister Intentions

"How is this happening?" Ellingham demanded of his second in command. "If the castle guard is this organized, then why did the Sheriff need to hire us in the first place?" His second in command shrugged.

"I don't know, but if we don't do something soon, we'll have to pull back." This was the last thing that Ellingham wanted to hear, and his blood boiled as he reviewed the events of the past day. In the span of the day, his men had been ambushed, most of his archers had been killed, and a messenger had breached the lines. Much to his chagrin, he'd very nearly been shot by what appeared to be a young boy. Things were not going well.

"Oy! Ellie, me boy!" Ellingham glanced upwards, taking in the sight of the impetuous young boy. He was grinning widely, his bow drawn back. "We're willing to negotiate!"

"Negotiate?" Ellingham asked, furrowing his brow. He had been pretty sure that he'd be the one to start the negotiations, to give the demands, yet here he was, staring as a little boy pointed an arrow straight at him.

"Actually, it's more like we give you a list of demands, and you meet them or else!" The other, taller boy called. Ellingham looked around as his men scrambled, trying to organize after an entire day of being hammered by wave after wave of attack. Ellingham looked back up, where a woman that he recognized from Robin Hood's gang had joined the boys.

"So, here they are. One, you'll go to Locksley and make sure that everything is back to the way it was before you moved in. Two, you'll leave any money and food that you have to the people that had to live in the forest because of you. Three, you'll get out of Nottinghamshire and never come back!" she called out, making sure that he heard every word before ushering the boys out of sight. Ellingham glowered, trying to think of some way out of his present situation. There was no way that he'd bend to the demands of a silly woman, two teenage boys, and a supposedly inept garrison of guards.

"Ellingham, what should we do?" his second asked.

"Prepare for tomorrow!" he snapped, shoving the man as he stormed past.

---

"I think today has gone amazingly well," Hanton commented, holding the wet rag to his forehead, wincing as the water entered his recently cleaned cut. He'd stepped out of the way of an incoming arrow, only to smash into the stone turret. A fair trade, he thought to himself.

"You nearly died," Forrest remarked flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's merely a flesh wound," Hanton grinned. "Besides, I missed the arrow to the face, didn't I? And I'm not the only one who had a close call today! What about Little Robin?" He nodded across the Great Hall, currently the makeshift infirmary, where Morgan was fussing over Hollis. The boy's cheeky grin and almost (see: undeniably) arrogant mannerisms struck a resonating chord with the two outlaws.

"It's a miracle that no one died," Forrest sighed. "No one on our side, anyway." There had been a handful of minor injuries, but no casualties. One man had been shot in the arm, but the physician had reassured everyone that he would make a full recovery. The same could not be said for Ellingham's men. A fair number of them had died when Forrest and Hanton's gang had attacked them on the road. The castle's archers had certainly proved themselves, mowing down the opposition. The situation was beginning to look hopeful, though neither one of them dared to say it out loud. After all, it was always quietest before a storm.

---

"I think we can take them." Renton liked to believe that he was an optimist. He liked to think that he was confident in his abilities. Even so, he had a hard time believing the ginger haired man as he plainly decided that the two of them could take the clump of men that were lazily sitting outside of the castle wall. Perhaps the ginger haired man could feel Renton's disbelieving stare, for he turned around and grinned.

"Trust me," he nodded. Before Renton could reply, he was moving, drawing his swords as he neared the mercenaries. Renton drew his own sword and followed, wondering when their reconnaissance mission had taken a more guerilla tone. He'd woken up towards the end of the day's assault, and he was eager to volunteer when Harold had proposed that someone take a look around to check for weak points.

Renton parried a strike and ran his sword through his enemy's exposed stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the whirlwind that was Harold, picking off the mercenaries as he moved through them. They were relatively secluded, for which Renton was glad. While Harold's initial analysis had been correct, Renton doubted that they could take on the whole army, should they hear the commotion.

He had been fighting on auto-pilot and hardly noticed the number of people that he'd disposed of until he'd looked down and spotted the bodies. He felt the bile rise in his throat and moved a hand to his stomach. There had been a reason that he hadn't gone on the Crusade, and that reason was staring up at him from the ground. 

He didn't handle bloodshed as well as most people did. When people found out, they tended to ask why he'd joined the castle guard. Renton would point out that it was the castle guard, and unless you picked a fight with the wrong people, there wasn't actually a lot of bloodshed. It was mostly standing around and looking intimidating enough to stop mass riots.

"Hey," Harold's call brought him out of his pensive moment, drawing his attention to the task at hand. "I think that we can call this a weak spot."

"You don't say," Renton smirked, "I think we should take their weapons. Maybe any supplies they might have." Harold grinned, appreciating the logical approach the guard was taking. Even though things seemed to be in their favor, it never hurt to be prepared.

---

"You should be more careful. There's a time and place to talk to your friends. Standing on a battlement in the middle of a fight is neither." Morgan scolded, hands on her hips. Luke sniggered at his friend's predicament, but quickly stopped when Morgan shot him one of the most terrifying glares he'd ever seen. Hollis squirmed uncomfortably, but he was unable to keep the smirk off of his face. It was a classic "hand in the cookie jar" look that was so reminiscent of Robin that Morgan nearly stopped her tirade. She took a moment to focus, pausing for a moment to think. _What would Much do?_

"I'm not going to tell you what to do; you're old enough to make your own decisions. Don't come crying to me when you've been shot," she finally said, sternly pointing a finger so close to his face that he went a bit cross-eyed. Without another word, she turned on heel and marched off. She stopped to talk to Tanner, who had been watching from a distance.

"How did I do?" she asked, not daring to turn around to look. Tanner discretely looked past her and nodded.

"Very well, I would say," he answered.

"Does he look like he's learned something?" Morgan asked hopefully. When Much would make comments to Robin, Robin would often wait until his friend was a safe distance away before looking appropriately chastised and muttering "I'm sorry" to no one in particular. Tanner raised an eyebrow as he checked.

"He looks a bit upset," he decided. Morgan nodded.

"Good," she concluded. "Now, what about the mercenaries?"

"They're shaken, no doubt. Harold and Renton went to look for their weak spots, so we'll be ready for tomorrow. Dunstan still hasn't come out of his room. We heard him crying, though, so he's still there," Tanner reported, giving the impression that he was used to doing so. "Morgan, I don't want to jinx it, but I think we can pull this off."

"Of course we can pull it off," Morgan smiled, clapping the younger guard on the shoulder. She lowered her voice to make sure that no one overheard. Only Renton and Tanner knew where the Sheriff and Guy had really gone. "You'll certainly have a story to tell Guy when he gets back from the Holy Land." At the off-handedly comment, Tanner's gaze fell to the floor, and an uncharacteristically solemn expression overtook his features.

"You mean _if_ he gets back," he corrected flatly.

"Of course he'll come back," Morgan reassured. Tanner shook his head, casually leading Morgan out of the Great Hall. He took a moment to revel in the feel of the night air on his skin as he stared up at the stars.

"He's gone to kill the king, though," he started quietly. "And Robin's gone to save the king." Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to see Morgan's reaction. She was also looking up at the sky, the stars reflecting in her eyes as they glistened with tears. She wasn't crying, nor was she speaking. Tanner guessed that she'd considered the possibility that she was going to lose a friend, no matter what happened.

"If he does come back, and one of your gang doesn't, will you still be friends with him?" he asked. She was spared having to answer when Harold and Renton burst into the courtyard, panting heavily, leaning on their swords.

"Weak spots," Harold gasped between breaths, grinning wildly.

"Lots of them," Renton confirmed, wiping the sweat off of his brow.

"Do tell," Tanner smiled, leaving the serious moment behind.

"Well, they've moved up pretty close, but they didn't move together, and that's really messed them up," Renton started, sounding pleased. "Some of them moved closer than the others, so the line was disjointed. Harold and I probably dropped, oh, what do you reckon, Harry?"

"Maybe thirty or so," Harold estimated. "Not exaggerating or anything. We were quiet, too, so I don't think the rest of them know yet."

"That is fantastic!" Morgan exclaimed, clapping her hands with excitement.

"No," Harold corrected, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. There was a diagram of the castle, and there were hastily scribbled markings on it. The ink had still been wet when Harold had folded it, a fact made obvious by the slightly smudged quality of the markings. "_This_ is fantastic."

"What is it?" Tanner asked, squinting at the parchment.

"It's a map, showing where all of the major groups are and where the breaks in the line are," Harold put plainly, pointing out the various markings as he spoke. Morgan's eyes lit up as she took it all in.

"This is like the Holy Fleece of maps!" she chattered giddily. "Like the Golden Grail of battle plans!"

"Reverse those," Renton corrected gently, still smiling widely. "Now, if we could get inside and get some food, that would be even more fantastic." 

---

"So it's like a password?" Forrest asked. Hollis shook his head.

"No, it's a bit like a war cry," he explained, looking to Luke for help.

"The thing is, 'Robin Hood' isn't Robin's proper name, right?" Luke asked. Hanton nodded. "He's really Robin of Locksley. So, if he's Robin of Locksley, then who is Robin Hood?"

"He is," Hanton answered, as if it were quite obvious. Luke looked back to Hollis, who tried once more to articulate the idea behind the gang's catchphrase.

"No, Robin is Robin_of Locksley_. Robin _Hood_ isn't so much a person as he is an idea." Forrest and Hanton exchanged looks before referring back to the boys with blank expressions.

"That doesn't make any sense," Forrest admitted.

"Are you saying that Robin Hood is a saying?" Hanton asked.

"Not exactly," Luke replied, starting to question the meaning of the saying himself.

"Well, I heard from Morgan, who heard from Allan, who heard from Will that there was a grand speech that went along with it and everything," Hollis admitted. "Something about the spirit of England and courage and stuff."

"So, Robin Hood represents the spirit of England?" Hanton inquired slowly.

"Yes!" Hollis grinned.

"So England is Robin Hood, who is actually Lavender Boy, who is actually a clever thief?" Forrest reasoned aloud. "So England is a clever thief?"

"Yes!" Hollis repeated, only to falter a second later. "Wait. Who's Lavender Boy?"

"Robin is Lavender Boy," Hanton clarified. "Now, explain to me how England is like a clever thief."

"Alright, I've got it," Luke piped up. "We say that 'We are Robin Hood' because it apparently has some deeper meaning: teamwork, courage, spirit, whatever. More importantly, we say it because Little John tells us to, and we're hardly going to tell Little John to sod off. Am I right?" For a moment, there was complete silence.

"Too right," Hollis finally laughed.

"Alright then, Luke," Hanton agreed. "Not that you didn't make sense, Little Robin."

"Little Robin?" Hollis asked, raising an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

"You're a lot like him," Forrest encouraged. Luke groaned as the grin became more noticeable.

"Please, don't egg him on," he pleaded. "His ego's big enough already."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hollis asked, feigning dismay.

"It's supposed to mean that it's a wonder that you can get through the portcullis, you great prat," Luke returned, laughing as he gave Hollis a playful push. "Keep playing around like you are and you're bound to get shot."

"Robin fools around all the time, and he's never been shot," Hollis pointed out. This was, of course, untrue, but Hollis hardly knew that. 

---

"I ask again! How is this happening?" Ellingham roared. He'd stumbled across the dead bodies of his men. If he was counting correctly, their deaths put the castle guard on equal footing. He sincerely hoped that he wasn't counting correctly. His second in command, wise enough to stay out of arm's length, but not wise enough to keep silent, cleared his throat.

"I think we're out of our depth," he admitted. "They've obviously got a good strategy. We can't beat them while they're in the castle." Ellingham dealt with this analysis by letting out a strangled yell.

"Well, we'll have to find a way of getting them out of the castle!" he snarled. "They're regular men, just like any of us! Think!"

"They're not like us, though," someone else piped up, though he made a definite effort to remain unseen. "They've got homes and families and stuff." For a moment, Ellingham looked ready to rip through the crowd and beat the man into the ground. Instead, a rather sinister smile spread across his face.

---

Dawn was upon them before anyone noticed. Tanner was sitting down to the first meal that he'd had time to properly savor, even it was only an egg on a slice of bread. Harold was sitting to his left, detailing the previous night's excursions.

"And this guy was all over it. Honestly, he was great," he was saying, reaching across the table to clap Renton on the shoulder. Renton shrugged, trying to play off his slight embarrassment.

"I wasn't all that," he muttered.

"Look at him, being all modest," Hanton teased from Tanner's right, nudged Forrest, who nodded.

"Don't be embarrassed, mate. You've got it; flaunt it," he encouraged. Morgan smirked. The way they were carrying on made it sound like Renton had just purchased a new outfit. 

"Anyway, that's not point," she spoke up. "The point is that we can face them with better odds."

"Here, here," Hollis agreed from her right. Beside him, Luke raised his goblet of water in a sort of toast, laughing as the others followed suit.

"Good morning, castle guard!" Ellingham's loud shout effectively disrupted the cheer at the table. Tanner was the first to stand, walking over to the window. The rest of their make-shift gang crowded behind him. Ellingham was staring up at them, a cocky grin on his face.

"It was until you showed your face!" Morgan called back, leaning forward. Renton grabbed the back of her shirt to make sure she didn't tumble out of the window.

"She's bold, though, isn't she?" Hanton muttered amusedly.

"Yeah, she's great," Hollis gushed quietly, though he stopped when he heard Luke's sniggers. "Shut up, Luke, or I'll spill about you and…" Luke quickly clamped a hand over his friend's mouth. They exchanged significant glances before calling a silent truce and looking back out the window.

"Don't you look pleased for someone who lost half of his men yesterday?" Morgan continued.

"Don't you look pleased for someone who's going to be wiped out?" Ellingham retorted. Morgan raised an eyebrow, glancing back at her friends before looking back to the mercenary.

"Not being funny, but it looks to me like we're the ones in the castle," she pointed out.

"Yeah, you are in the castle. So, tell me. What would Prince John think if he found out that outlaws had taken over the castle? And who is protecting the villages?" From the complete silence that followed, Ellingham knew that he'd hit his mark.

"So, this is how this is going to work! My men are going to go to the villages! I'm going to head for London. You can save your families now, or you can save Nottingham later! The choice is yours!"

"It's a trap," Tanner muttered.

"Of course it is, but it's hardly a joke, either," Renton pointed out.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Forrest asked.

"We don't have any choice," Morgan sighed. "We can't let them attack the villages, and we certainly can't let them get a message to Prince John."

"So we'll play their game," Luke shrugged simply.

"Play their game and win," Hollis added, unable to stop the grin tugging at his lips.

---

So, this is the second to last chapter. I've already written a good chunk of the next chapter, so you can probably expect it in the next few days. Don't hold me to that, though, because I've got three discs of Doctor Who coming in tomorrow. (Fly, fledgling fandom, fly!)

I really used this chapter to define the friendships between the makeshift gang. Plus, I got to talk about the "We are Robin Hood" phrase. A lot of the guest characters seemed confused by it, and they never showed the gang trying to explain it, so I thought I'd take a shot. I also dropped some (not very) subtle foreshadowing. You may want to look for that…

After I post the next chapter, I may go into hiding. I'm not going to say the phrase "character death," but that's pretty much what's going to happen. Quite a bit.

Brace yourselves, folks.

For now, though, I hope you enjoy! Please review!


	6. Strife

"So,what's the plan?" Hanton asked. Morgan ran her fingers through her hair, adjusting her headband.

"I don't know," she blurted out. "We can't just run out after them. They're going in different directions."

"It's like a stage," Luke proposed, fully expecting the confused stares he received. "I helped my dad and Will build a few of them. You have to use thick planks, because it the wood is too thin, it'll break. Those mercenaries are splitting into groups. Now, we've picked off a lot of them as it is. They'll be easier to take down."

"Luke, that's brilliant!" Morgan commented, hooking an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair, inspired by the metaphor, Luke's casual tone, or the combination thereof. "I'll take Luke and Hollis into the forest and cut off Ellingham. Renton, Tanner, Harold, go to Clun. Renton knows the quickest paths. Forrest, Hanton, take your men to Nettlestone. Those villages are the closest."

"What about Locksley?" Hanton asked.

"The people of Locksley have been cleared out for months. Anything that they destroy there can be replaced," Hollis pointed out. "Now, let's get going!"

---

Renton scowled. The mercenaries were going to beat them into Clun.

"We've got to do something," he muttered. Beside him, Tanner shifted impatiently. He'd been working with Renton for nearly three years, and he could count on one hand the number of days that had passed where he didn't mention his family. The thought of them being in the village, completely unaware of the danger, was probably driving him mad.

"Then let's do something," he spoke up. "Get the villagers out." With that, he ran from their hiding place, drawing his bow and shooting one of the mercenaries in the back. Renton rushed out after him, echoing his actions.

"Oy! Meatheads!" Tanner shouted, drawing the attention of the men. At first glance, he guessed that there were nearly thirty men. He glanced at Renton. "We need to run."

"There's a barn," Renton prompted, taking off towards said barn, looking to make sure that the mercenaries followed. Tanner ducked into the barn after him, shutting the door. "Now what, Tanner?"

"No idea," Tanner admitted. "I didn't have a plan."

"Oh," Renton sighed. He couldn't say that he was disappointed. He walked towards the back of the barn, trying to think up a plan. When nothing came to him, he kicked at a bench. To his surprise, the paneling fell away, revealing a small crawlspace. Renton looked over at Tanner.

"Room for one," he announced. Tanner nodded, taking the information in stride.

"Room for you," he amended.

"You're barely twenty years old," Renton hissed.

"You've got a wife and three children," Tanner countered, glancing at the small crawlspace. The mercenaries threw themselves against the door. The hinges creaked ominously, telling of the door's imminent collapse. They were running out of time.

"We shouldn't be fighting each other," Renton decided. "If you won't take the space, I'd be a coward to do so."

"Then we'll face them together," Tanner nodded encouragingly, drawing his sword.

"Together," Renton echoed. They were silent for a moment, the only noise coming from the mercenaries trying to enter the barn. Tanner let out a nervous laugh.

"There is a girl in Nottingham. Her name's Rosalind," he suddenly said. "She sells vegetables in the market. I hate vegetables, but I went every Wednesday and bought them, just so I could talk to her."

"You never told her," Renton finished. Tanner ran a hand through his hair, nodding his head.

"I didn't," he admitted. "Suppose it's too late to worry about it now."

"Perhaps not," Renton offered. "We might make it out of here."

"Yeah, and then the Sheriff will come back and give us all a pay raise," Tanner joked. "What about you, Rent? Anything to say?"

"I haven't seen my family for two weeks. I've only held my youngest daughter once. When I went back to the castle, I didn't say goodbye. I don't want to die like this. I want to be with Leah and Adam and Jill and little Elizabeth. They are my life." Renton's confession was wrought with regret. Tanner understood completely when he quickly changed the subject. "Take the front, Tanner."

The younger guard stepped forward, taking a deep breath and ignoring his shaking knees.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to see them again," he apologized, though it was hardly his fault.

"It's alright," Renton replied softly. "I'm sorry, too." Tanner was about to point out that his hesitations with Rosalind were hardly Renton's fault, but the hilt of Renton's sword soundly connected with the back of his head. Renton caught the younger man as he slumped to the ground, dragging him to the crawlspace.

"Be safe. Take care of them for me," he whispered, closing the trick door. He crossed himself before turning back to the door, holding his sword at the ready. As the barn door splintered, and the mercenaries poured inside, he charged forward, screaming his allegiance at the top of his lungs.

"FOR MY FAMILY! MY ENGLAND!"

---

They were good, Harold thought, but he knew he was better. Renton and Tanner's distraction had bought them enough time to clear out the villagers. It tugged at his heartstrings when he caught sight of a woman with a baby, two children at her heels. One of the guards had pointed her out and told Harold that she was Renton's wife. When the mercenaries returned, lesser in number, all he could think about was the look on the woman's face when she learned of the great sacrifice her husband had made. 

He shook his head. Renton and Tanner hadn't returned, but they could've survived. Even as he thought it, he muttered a quick prayer for their souls and launched himself into a full-on attack. As Luke had guessed, the mercenaries had spread themselves too thin. They were so few in number that the men with Harold wiped them out with relative ease. Still, Harold couldn't help but notice that several of the fallen were on his side. He hoped that Forrest and Hanton were at least faring as well as he was.

---

The mercenaries were surprised to find that Nettlestone was absolutely empty. The doors to the cottages were flung open, and there were water buckets scattered about. The villagers, where ever they were, had left in a hurry, as if they'd known.

"How could they know that we were coming?" someone asked.

"They're here!" one of them realized, drawing his sword.

"What are you going on about, Troy?" another asked.

"The men that ambushed us," the first snapped. "They must've cut through the forest. They're here; they're hiding!"

"Then we'll find them," the second barked, signaling for the men to spread out.

"I don't like this," Troy muttered. "They could be anywhere."

"They could be right behind you," a voice suddenly whispered.

---

Hollis pulled the arrow back, finding comfort in the familiar feel of the bowstring's resistance. He was on his last arrow, having gone through his own supply as well as Luke's and most of Morgan's. Luke preferred to use his throwing axe, and Morgan recognized Hollis as the better shot. She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently, suddenly remembering the first time that she'd met him. He'd been rather timid, nervous and a bit awkward. He'd grown since then, transforming into a confident young man, if not a slightly arrogant one. Luke, too, had truly found his element. He had become more than just "Will's little brother," defining his character with a balance of passion and practicality.

"Whatever happens, I'm proud of you both," Morgan said, feeling that she'd regret it if she didn't.

"Hey, don't get all gooey and girly on us," Luke grinned. Hollis would've joined in, but he had spotted their target.

"Hold!" he commanded as they caught up to Ellingham. The man stopped in his tracks, which surprised the three outlaws. Hollis tried not to show it. "Put your hands up and turn around!" He watched as the mercenary complied.

"Now, give me one good reason not to kill you were you stand!" Hollis barked.

"Because you are Robin Hood," Ellingham sneered mockingly. "You don't kill unless it is absolutely necessary, remember?"

"Oh, let's think on that," Luke scoffed. "You're threatening the lives of everyone in Nottingham. I dunno, I think that this counts as necessary!" His hand moved to the small throwing axe at his side. Ellingham's gaze deviated from the tiny group for a split second, but it was enough of a tell that Luke had time to spin around before several of Ellingham's elites jumped out from behind a tree. 

He threw his axe into the nearest one, though he wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the arrow to his arm. His stifled grunt of pain alerted Hollis and Morgan. Hollis sent his arrow into another, and Morgan's hunting knife soon found itself embedded in someone's stomach. Luke shifted uneasily, wincing as he ripped the arrow from his arm. Morgan turned around to face Ellingham, expecting to see him running away. To her chagrin, he'd drawn his bow, pointing it straight at her.

Later, when she would lie awake, trying to stave off the nightmares, she would wonder what she could've done differently. She would wonder what could've been had she acted instead of freezing up. Had she ducked instead of watching as he stepped in front of her. Hollis' eyes widened as the arrow pierced his chest. The pain-riddled cry caught in his throat as he allowed himself to fall backwards. Morgan caught him and lowered him to the ground, her mind toggling between the present and the painful memories of Michael.

"I'm not going to cry. You told me not to," Hollis rasped. Morgan made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Why did you do that?" she sputtered, her own voice sounding distant and alien. Hollis grinned up at her, despite the overwhelming pain that originated from the fatal wound and shafted through his entire chest.

"You don't let the people you love get shot by mercenaries," he reasoned simply, shuddering as the words caused him greater pain. Her thoughts were muddled, but his admission rang through her head with terrifying clarity.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded, running the pad of her thumb up his jaw-line, as if trying to coax his spirit into staying. Hollis wrapped a hand around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I won't," he promised, though the light was already fading from his eyes. "By the way, Luke has a huge crush on Lady Marian." He began to laugh, but it quickly faded into silence. She cradled him until it was over, when the horrible silence was broken by Ellingham's victorious chuckle.

"Wait until people find out about this," he declared. "One of Robin Hood's gang couldn't even protect a child!" Luke, who had remained silent since the arrow had plunged into his arm, glared at the mercenary.

"Hollis wasn't a child. He was a hero," he corrected, every syllable wavering with rage. He was barely aware that Harold had finally caught up with them, skidding to a stop behind Ellingham. He said nothing but held his swords aloft, ready to cut off the mercenary's escape.

"Morgan? You alright?" he asked hesitantly.

Morgan couldn't form the words. She couldn't cry out. She supposed that it was okay, because in that moment, she wasn't interested in talking. In one, fluid motion, she picked the last arrow, the only one she hadn't given to Hollis, from her quiver and notched it in her bow, pulling back that bowstring. She'd never been a remarkable shot, especially not when compared to Robin or Allan, but facts like that tended not to matter when she was only five feet away from her target. Ellingham's body crumpled to the ground, the arrow protruding from the exact center of the circular mark on his forehead. Finally, her tongue loosened.

"Are you alright, Luke?" she asked quietly. Luke held his arm, applying pressure to his wound. He nodded, electing not to say anything, unable to stop his gaze from settling on the dead bodies on the ground in front of him. Morgan knelt at his side, her reactions directly opposing his. She focused on him, helping him to his feet. He noticed that she was shaking, and apparently, so did Harold.

"He needs to take care of his wound," he noted.

"I'm fine," Luke grumbled, a mix of emotions already swirling through his head. Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted Will. Unfortunately, Will was not there. Luke reflected on the unfamiliar situation. While he'd never run down a mercenary in the forest or gotten stabbed in the arm, he had lost loved ones before. When his mother had passed, Will was there to tell him that it would be alright. When his father had been murdered, Will had held him and helped him calm down. Now, with his best friend dead on the ground a few feet away, and Will halfway across the world, he felt suddenly empty. He stole a glance at Harold, who looked back at him.

"You're not going to be fine if you don't get that arm checked out," he reasoned.

"I'm fine," Luke repeated pointedly. "Tend to her first."

"I don't need tending to," Morgan mumbled quietly, cutting the messenger off before he could start. "How many?" Harold shut his mouth. He didn't want to tell her how many they'd lost. The number was far lower than they'd expected, but each death was one too many. 

"How many, Harold?" There was an urgency in her tone that stirred him to answer.

"Six of the village men. Thirteen of Forrest and Hanton's men. Twenty-two of the guard," he rattled off, though he paused, as if there was more to say.

"What is it?" Morgan asked, afraid of his answer.

"Renton," Harold finally said. "Renton's dead."

"I'll tell his family," Morgan replied, forcing herself not to cry.

"And Hollis?" Harold asked, kneeling by the boy's body.

"I'll take him home," she managed before her voice cracked.

---

Her heart pounded in her ears as she stepped through Clun, which was buzzing with activity. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as she spotted Leah. Adam saw Morgan first and quickly darted over to her.

"Morgan! I heard there was a fight, and that my dad was very brave!" he smiled widely. Morgan patted him on the head, though she didn't stop walking until she reached his mother.

"Oh, Morgan, thank God! We heard that there'd been deaths," Leah blurted, shifting Elizabeth in her arms. "Where is he? Where's my Renton?" Morgan opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She felt like a child, trying to scramble for an answer that she didn't want to give. Her silence seemed to speak for her.

"No," Leah gasped. "No!" Jill tugged at her mother's skirt.

"Mummy, what's wrong? When's daddy coming home?" she asked eagerly.

"Leah," Morgan began, wanting to say that she understood, but again her words failed her.

"Renton was a hero," a voice said from behind. Tanner slowly worked his way over to them, his voice slightly hoarse, as if he'd been unconscious. "He saved the village. He saved my life. He went down fighting. Fighting for you." Anticipating her collapse, Tanner held out his arms, taking Elizabeth.

"I'm so sorry," he comforted before glancing up at Morgan. "I'll take care of her. Tend to yours."

---

It had been three months since the mercenaries had been driven out of the shire. Morgan sat cross-legged in the grass, staring ahead.

"It's a nice day today. I have a feeling that the lads will be back soon," she muttered. "I'm glad. I've been feeling a bit lonely lately. Harold's gone to Portsmouth, and Hanton's gone back south. He said that he was going to give Forrest a proper burial. Luke's visiting Scarborough. He wanted me to say hi to you, Hollis." She paused, looking at the grave marker. The grass had started to grow back over the disturbed earth. The grave next to his, though, was still fresh enough that the soil was an uninterrupted brown.

"I think it worked out for the best, Mum," she nodded. "You're back with Dad and Michael now, and you're not sick anymore. That's good, right?" Of course, there was no reply, but Morgan found that she was still waiting for one. She shook her head.

"I visited Renton the other day. He's got a beautiful spot under this oak tree. Tanner saw to that. He's also been watching after Leah and the kids. Elizabeth's started talking. She called him 'daddy' the other day. I don't think Renton would've minded, though." She looked at the flowers laid on each of the graves. Each grave had one, except for Michael's, which had two.

"You can come out, Guy," she called, her gaze not moving from her brother's grave. "I got word from Harold. He saw you arrive in Portsmouth." Guy stepped out from behind a tree. One of the first things that Morgan noticed was just how haggard he looked. He was sporting magnificent stubble, and his skin was pale. There were dark circles about his eyes, like he hadn't slept properly for quite some time.

"Is that all he said?" he asked.

"That's all he said," she confirmed. Guy mulled the thought over for a moment before drawing his sword, pointing the blade at Morgan's throat. Morgan stared up at him.

"Guy, what happened in the Holy Land?" she asked slowly, trying to work out the dull expression behind his eyes. Tanner's words floated through her mind. _If he comes back, and one of your gang doesn't…_

"It was his own fault," he muttered, sounding more than slightly insane. "He brought it upon himself. He should've kept out of it." The enigmatic statement worried Morgan, but when she tried to stand, Guy pressed the flat of his blade against her throat.

"Guy, who did you kill?" Morgan asked, her voice wavering with panic. She didn't think she could handle the news of another loss. "Was it Robin?" Guy's lip curled in disgust at the sound of his enemy's name.

"He will taste my blade before this is all over," he hissed. Morgan took that as a 'no.'

"And before you ask, your precious traitor is still alive." Under any other circumstance, Morgan would've been relieved by his words, but now they offered her little comfort.

"Guy, just tell me," she pleaded, bracing herself. Will? Much? Little John? Djaq? The possibilities were terrifying.

"Tell you what? That I injured Marian? That she's gone out of my life, moved to Aquitaine until she can be safe again with her precious Robin Hood?" Guy barked angrily, leaning forward and grabbing Morgan by the throat, picking her up and slamming her against the tree. He held her in place with one hand, his sword shaking slightly in the other.

"Marian?" Morgan asked incredulously. "But you love her."

"And she betrayed me! As did Allan! They were with Hood the whole time, playing me for a fool! And you knew! You knew, but you let me believe!" Guy growled.

"So what do you plan to do? Kill me? Will that fix everything?" she demanded, her budding speech cut off when Guy tightened his grip on her throat.

"I will kill every last one of you. That will fix everything," he muttered.

"Do you really believe that?" Morgan managed to ask.

"Of course I bloody believe it!" Guy shouted angrily. "Now, do you have any last words?"

"I have words for Guy of Gisborne. All I see before me is a snake of a man, so twisted that he doesn't even know which way is up anymore," Morgan choked out. "You know what'll hurt more than your sword in my stomach?

"What?" Guy asked flatly.

"Going up to heaven and having to tell Michael that he was completely wrong about you. That he died for someone who's already dead!" she spat. _Will you still be friends with him?_ Morgan had made up her mind, and apparently so had Guy.

---

When he climbed into bed that night, he thought of what he'd done. He dully recalled that he'd left his sword, refusing to touch it after it had plunged so far that it had dug far into the tree bark, leaving her pinned. He supposed that he was wrong for just leaving her there like that, but he also supposed that she was no longer his problem. He rolled onto his back, staring at his palms.

"Stained with the blood of women," he mused. Morgan had been right. He couldn't have been saved. Not by her. Not even by Marian. He was already dead and had been for a long time.

---

The End. This concludes series one of the Morgan Stories.

So, Marian's alive! Hurray! As for Morgan… -hides behind a desk-

I am totally going to miss both Hollis and Renton. Just to make it clear: 

Yes, they are definitely both dead. I don't plan on pulling a Connor Macleod with either one of them. Or a Jack Harkness. Or -insert appropriate fandom reference here.-

No, Tanner is not going to marry Leah. He's just taking care of Renton's family.

I feel that even though I personally like Guy, I should stay true to the fact that he is an evil sort of nutter. So, that explains the complete psychosis there in the last few paragraphs…

I hope that you've enjoyed these stories as much as I've enjoyed writing them. A lot of people say that, but in this case it's completely true.

Huge thanks to RocMySox, DeathlyElegance, freddiebrandis, Gilari, PetiteDiable, DeanParker, LittleMissSparkles, L.A.H.H., Kates Master, CrimsonRose456, Gwenyth Hunter, and anyone who's ever read, review, or enjoyed my stories. So much love, guys. For realsies.

Drop me a comment if you have any questions that I didn't answer, or just to talk. Either one is completely acceptable.


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